Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“An age-old curse,” I agree, soaking up her insight like a sponge. We seem to keep ending up in these moments, confiding in each other—and I don’t want them to stop. We’ve only known each other a short time, but I’ve never been more comfortable talking to anyone. It’s like a new portal of the universe has opened up and suddenly…the bond I’ve never had with anyone is being offered to me in a forbidden package. But I can’t stop untying the strings. “Your parents. How is the relationship now?”
“Awkward.” Her brow knits. “I want to have a relationship with them as an adult. But my adulthood was sort of…put on hold. Now I’m trying to find a reason for them to like me, be proud of me, before I reach out for something meaningful. I don’t want to mess up a second time.”
That confession tightens my chest. I want to dig in, want to question her about everything involving those rebellious years, but I can’t throw a dart directly at the bullseye or I sense she’ll clam up. Christmas seems to be our jumping-off point into more serious topics, so I stick with that, hoping she’ll jump with me. “What was your tree decorating style growing up? Did you start at the top or bottom? Strategic placement or haphazard?”
A quiet smile twitches her lips. “Oh, strategic. All the way. I would sketch it out with crayons beforehand.”
I tip my head toward the covered window. “Sounds about right. You stopped getting the urge to plan it out once you’d grown up?”
“Yeah, that would have meant I cared about something. The horror.” Staring past me out the window onto the avenue, she seems to forget herself for a moment. “My friends would have laughed at me. Nothing worse, right? Nicole—”
When she cuts herself off and doesn’t continue, I duck my head to catch her line of sight. “Who is Nicole?”
“Oh.” She gets fidgety. “She’s my best friend.”
Said with no small amount of hesitation.
I wait.
“She came from a difficult family situation. They moved from apartments to motel rooms and back. Her father had some substance abuse issues and couldn’t keep his jobs longer than a few weeks. She was over at my house a lot. Eating, spending the night. My parents were really generous. They were there for her as much as they could be, with their jobs being so busy. But of course she was defensive. Of course she was resentful. She was a kid in this unstable situation that was scary and uncertain.” She stops for a moment. “When she started partying and shoplifting…I went with her. I was her best friend. That’s what best friends do. They have each other’s backs. They don’t let them go out alone. And somewhere along the way, I just got so absorbed. She was my new family and if I did anything without her, she’d get hurt. I’d feel guilty. I never even told her I was taking online college courses after high school.” She wets her lips. “That’s when I knew something was wrong with our friendship. The fact that she wouldn’t like me pursuing a dream. But I still couldn’t break it off. And then it was too late. I agreed to hold up the restaurant, telling myself it would be the last time I caved. That I was going to let the numbness wear off. I missed myself.”
I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek so I don’t reach across the seat and pull her into my lap. Stella is this incredible blend of strength and pain and self-awareness. And I can’t even imagine the courage it took to apply for this job. To type out her mistakes on a page, show up and move forward and pursue something she loves after having her life veer in such a drastic direction from where it started. “And now? Do you still miss yourself?”
A line appears on her forehead. “I don’t know. I’ve been paused for four years. I’m still trying to hit play again.” Her gaze drifts over to Vivant. “No, I am…hitting it. I’m hitting play and trying to pretend I know what happens next. But really, I’m just walking into it blind.”
“You’re not alone in that, Stella. Most people have no idea what to expect from the next calendar day, let alone year. Look at 2020.” I wave a hand. “Actually don’t.”
Laughing quietly, she shifts a little to face me, crossing one long leg over the other. A physical subject change—and I’m going to let her have it since I already got a lot more than I was hoping for. “You don’t walk into anything blind, do you?” Her eyes narrow playfully. “Except maybe…decorating your office.”
Surprise leaps in my ribcage and pops right out of my mouth. “What?”